You're Never Alone
by clair beaubien
Summary: Tag Scene to Soul Survivor. Dean's cured and Sam's exhausted, but he doesn't want to sleep.


Taking the long way to the kitchen, Sam stopped at Dean's room to check on him. Dean was still dressed, half rolled up in a blanket, dead asleep. He'd eaten a decent amount for supper and gone to sleep early and now it was the middle of the night and Sam hadn't been to bed because he couldn't stop coming to Dean's door to check on him.

After a while, Sam headed to the kitchen to make some more coffee to help keep himself awake. But as soon as he was through the doorway he sank into the first chair at the first table and rested his head in his hands. A few minutes of rest, he told himself, some more caffeine, he'd be fine.

"Sam, you look terrible."

Cas's voice so unexpected and close jerked Sam backwards in his chair.

"What the hell, Cas? A little warning next time maybe?"

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I came to see how you're doing. I've been worried about you."

"I'm fine," Sam lied. He stood up and turned to the coffee maker.

"Dean has been back almost three full days now, Sam. Surely it's time to take care of yourself."

"I am taking care of myself; I'm making coffee."

He heard Cas sigh. "I see I must employ the big guns." And with a ruffle of feathers, Cas was gone again.

Sam gave a brief look over his shoulder then turned back to making his coffee, shaking his head. "Whatever." He picked a cup from the stack and waited for the coffee to be ready.

"Kid, you look like crap."

Sam spun around and the cup dropped and crashed on the floor at his feet as he stared at the vision across from him.

Same battered hat and vest, same flannel shirt, worn jeans, boots, gray hair and beard.

" _Bobby?"_

Same gentle smile.

"Hey, Sam."

"What – what – " Sam knew what he wanted to ask; he just couldn't remember how to ask it. "How – ?"

Bobby shrugged.

"Cas pulled a few strings, got me a peek through from the other side. I thought I should look in on you boys."

Sam nodded, taking it all in, and once it was all in, he could barely take a breath.

" _Bobby."_ He took a step, intending to grab him in a hug, but Bobby must've seen his intention and waved him back.

"No, don't bother. Cas said I wasn't _corporeal._ " He said it with an exaggerated shake of his head and roll of his eyes. "I can be seen, but I can't be touched or sit down or move anything. But why I don't fall through the floor, he don't know."

Sam laughed. "I'll get Dean. He's in his room. I'll just –"

Bobby held up a hand.

"Not yet, Sam. This visit's for you."

"Me? Why? What –?"

"Maybe you wanna fill me in on what's been going on here the past few months?"

"Uh – well – it's been kinda – since we saw you – it – uh – Dean – Dean – " Sam tried but couldn't get the words out. Bobby made a rolling gesture with his hand and prompted in overly bright tone,

"Dean became a demon, uh hunh…"

"Yeah, and uh – but he's okay now. We – we cured him. Cas and me."

" _Cas_ and you cured him."

"Yeah, Cas and – yeah."

"The way Cas laid it out for me, he got there at the two-minute warning of a damn long game."

"He got there right when I needed him. If he hadn't shown up when he did, I – I –" Sam sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. "I don't know what I would've done."

"I'll tell you what you would've done. What you've always done – whatever you had to do to protect your brother. If that meant playing cat and mouse through this catacomb for a hundred years, that's what you would've done. _You_ saved your brother. You and that stubborn-assed Winchester blood you got in you."

Sam started to contradict him but then just shrugged. "I had to. I had to save him."

"And you did. All by yourself."

"No – I had help - I had – "

"How many weeks were you hunting Dean down all by yourself? How many days were you on your own with him, getting him back to the Bunker, getting him tied down into that chair, getting that blood into him, watching him suffer, all the while you were down one arm?"

Sam sighed and shook his head and crouched down to pick up the shatters of his coffee cup.

"You listening to me, kid?" Bobby asked, with some warning in his tone.

"I'm listening, but what difference does it make? Dean's home and he's safe. Whoever did it – " Sam shrugged again and dropped the broken cup into the trash can. "That wasn't – that was – none of that matters."

"Don't you even think about telling me it don't matter. It matters plenty. It matters to Dean - it matters a helluva lot to him. _Sam_ – the king of _hell_ couldn't control your brother, not even with two good arms and every last demon minion behind him. _You_ saved Dean. All on your own, you saved your brother. Now it's time you start looking after yourself."

"I'm fine."

"Bull. You're about to drop where you stand. You're exhausted and I don't need Cas to tell me that. I can see it all over you. You need rest, Sam. You need sleep and you won't get it going through coffee like water."

"Bobby – I'm not going to sleep when I have to – " All the reasons why he couldn't sleep crowded Sam's brain. But he didn't say them.

"Sam?" Bobby asked, gently.

"I almost didn't save him, Bobby. I came so close to not saving him. What if I hadn't saved him? What if –"

"'What if' is a game for storytellers," Bobby said. "You _did_ save him. You need to let the rest go and get some sleep."

Sam was about to tell Bobby to just leave it, but he decided to tell him the truth. He wanted to tell him the truth. "I can't sleep. I've tried. I have. Closing my eyes – when I lay down and close my eyes, I feel like if I go to sleep Dean will slip away and I'll be alone and no matter what I do or try it just won't ever be enough to make everything all right again."

Bobby narrowed his eyes and tipped his head.

"You're not alone, Sam. Family don't end with blood and it don't end with death. You got a lot friends watching over you. Maybe we can't ever intervene the way we'd like, but we're watching over you. Both of you. Now you go get some rest. All right? You go get yourself some sleep. I'll watch over you."

Sam swallowed hard and nodded despite the lump in his throat. "Thanks, Bobby," he said, managing a small smile while his eyes filled with tears. "I sure wish you were _corporeal_."

"So do I, kid."

With a last look to Bobby, Sam left the kitchen and walked to the bedroom hallway. Dean was still asleep, he hadn't even moved, so Sam kept going to his own room. It smelled of whiskey and Old Spice and when Sam laid down and closed his eyes, he fell asleep.

##

A/N2: thoughts and prayers and lots & lots of hugs to Jared.


End file.
